


The K-Files

by paper_boat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The X-Files
Genre: A bit of Oathfamily too, Alternate Universe, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway, Inspired by The X-Files, Slow Burn, Team Lannistarth solving mysteries all over Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 21:56:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_boat/pseuds/paper_boat
Summary: In Westeros, King’s Bureau of Investigation's agent Jaime Lannister has dedicated his life to solving crimes labelled as "unexplained phenomena" by the authorities. For Jaime, the answers are to be found beyond the realm of science, in a world of myths, magic and long-forgotten creatures that no one but him seem to believe in - and especially not his new partner, the very rational and pragmatic Brienne Tarth. However, as a series of mysterious murders begins to spread panic over the Seven Kingdoms, the two of them are forced to consider all possibilities, even the less plausible ones...In their quest to find the truth, they will embark on a journey that will lead them from King's Landing to Qarth, from Old Valyria to the North, in the hopes of solving the mystery and of saving the Seven Kingdoms from a legendary enemy whose only objective seem to be the destruction of the world, and an everlasting winter.In short: Winter is coming, and the Truth is out there.---AU (more or less) modern setting, inspired by the X-Files !Including: a bit of magic, prophecies and dragons, a lot of pining, slow burn (I said slow), and the Lone Gunmen. Sort of.





	The K-Files

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This is my first fic on AO3, my first "big" work and the first time I'm writing a (kind of) crossover. All very exciting!  
> I'll edit the tags and the summary progressively because I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, but well, there's no going back. 
> 
> Not beta'd, English isn't my first language - I'll gladly fix any grammar or spelling mistakes if you let me know!  
> Regarding the updates, I write rather slowly and I have other projects so one chapter every two weeks is what I'm currently aiming for.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will like it! The first chapters heavily copy the X-Files (esp. 1x01 'Pilot'), but the rest of the story will be more a product of my own mind. But of course I will incorporate elements of both shows and of ASOIAF in the story !
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this chapter, don't hesitate to leave kudos or a comment x

**PROLOGUE**

_The North - The Wolfswood_

There were rotten leaves and a wet, soft soil against her bare feet as she ran through the trees, blinded by the impenetrable obscurity of the northern forest. She could not even hear the howling of the wolves in the night: the only thing she knew was the pounding of her heart in her chest, threatening to tear her ribcage apart, and one command that came around in her head like a leitmotiv: _run_. So she was running for her life in the Wolfswood, panting and afraid, with one hope of escaping this nightmare: to reach Last Hearth… Yet, in the dark, there was no way to tell whether she was going in the right direction. But as long as she kept moving, she knew that at least she was safe. She thought that maybe she wasn’t too far: it seemed to her that she could distinguish faint lights behind the trees: maybe a village like hers, or maybe the first houses outside of Last Hearth? Momentarily distracted, she slid on a leaf; her feet caught on a branch, and she tripped and fell. She screamed as her body seemed to fly for a second, only to land harshly a few meters below.

Her body stayed on the ground like a rag doll for a moment – every bone, every muscle was aching. She was probably bleeding, maybe she even had something broken but she barely had time to register anything else. Indeed, with a swishing sound that sent shivers down her spine, the wind came whirling around her, a not so gentle breeze that carried with it the cries of the wolves. Little did the wind know, it was not the wolves that she feared, but something else, something darker, something wicked.

What she fears instead is the thin layer of frost that appeared from nowhere, now creeping on the ground and catching the reddening leaves in a prison of ice. What she fears instead is the crystal-blue glow that suddenly shines from behind the trees, and the dark silhouette that emerges from it, taking slow, deliberate steps towards her. What she fears instead is the absolute certainty that her fate was sealed, and that she could not escape it.

The wind is now making the leaves twirl around her, with such power that she feels like she’s trapped inside a tornado. And as the silhouette comes closer, she can feel the cold too. It’s not the usual, North-like cold that all Northerners live with and love, no. It has something twisted about it: it’s a cold that you feel inside, one that turns your bones into ice and your heart into stone. Her world is now dark and blue: she cannot see anything as the figure towers over her broken body, except for two glowing blue eyes that find their way right through her soul.

She opens her mouth to speak - to scream, maybe, or to plead for mercy,

But her eyes close before she can say anything,

And she feels like burning from the inside as death comes to greet her.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1 -** A most unpleasant assignment 

_The next day,_

_King’s Landing - King’s Bureau of Investigation (KBI)_

It’s a bright day in King’s Landing, and Brienne Tarth chooses to think that it is a message from the Gods, a good omen of sorts. The sun is high in the clear blue sky and it does lift her spirits a lot: if she closes her eyes and focuses to make the noise and the smell that are so… specific to the Capital disappear, she can almost believe she’s on her island, bathing in the morning sunlight before another day is spent riding and swimming.

But she isn’t on Tarth, and she won’t be doing anything near horses or the sea today, she regrets as she approaches the impressive Red Keep. She’s used to seeing it, but it always amazes her, how the men of the eras before managed to build such enormous monuments that stood the test of time, invasions or wars. What _really_ astonishes her though, is the size of the Red Keep – she doesn’t even know how big exactly the building is. It hosts several services, including all of the Government’s offices and the King’s Bureau of Investigation, as well as other governmental agencies she’s vaguely heard of. Anyway, it’s not like she would ever have either enough free time or the opportunity to find out: each administration’s quarters were strictly delimited and with her current status she couldn’t even dream of entering the Government’s building. And her job kept her pretty busy too: given how massive the Keep was from the outside, she expected it to be somehow bigger on the inside, with a maze of corridors and rooms that were rumoured to run in the underground, deep and deeper under the surface of the earth.

Brienne shrugged: she was not here to indulge about some reveries of her wandering around. She was here for a reason, for the KBI and the KBI only: on this thought, she straightened her back and entered the building. She tried hard not to obsess over her appearance: she had chosen a grey suit and flat black shoes, an outfit that screamed 'I am a very professional being who is intelligent and knows her stuff, but please don’t talk to me unless you really have to'. Her closest friend Margaery had told her that these clothes were the best she had for the occasion, and Brienne had refused to do any kind of shopping to find something else. She wasn’t sure she’d ever find something that would make her either less ugly, or less ungainly, or less flat-chested, or less masculine, or less… _her._ So, as usual, she had settled for the least bad option, and now she had to pretend that she was not embarrassed by the gazes she could feel on her. She stopped at the receptionist’s desk.  
“Good morning, Agent Brienne Tarth.” The lady behind the desk barely gave her a look, her eyes glued to the computer as she only ran her pass through the machine, validating her accreditation. Brienne took back her pass with a murmured “thank you” and went on to find her way through the sea of people busy working. She knew where to go and upon reaching her destination, she stopped for a brief moment. Just one second, for a quick reminder: _I got this_. _I am skilled, I am good, and they asked me to come. It’s all going to be alright. I. Got. This._

With a deep breath, she knocked and entered.

Inside the room, was Tywin Lannister sitting behind his desk as well as two other men she did not know, and who didn’t bother introducing themselves. Quietly, Brienne closed the door behind her, and only then did Lannister seem to notice her.

“Agent Tarth, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please.” Following his invite, she came forward and took a seat. She couldn’t help but feeling nervous, despite the mask of professionalism she showed: she knew for sure that she wasn’t in trouble, but Tywin Lannister was a feared man, and rightly so. Powerful, he was to be taken seriously. His piercing eyes darting over her, _assessing_ her, he began to talk. Fortunately, neither him nor the other two made any comment about her physical appearance: for all she knew, that was already a relief. So, despite her uneasiness, Brienne made sure to remain calm and tried to relax.

“You’re been with us just over two years.

\- Yes, sir.

\- You went to medical school but you chose not to practise. How'd you come to work for the KBI?” There was no accusation in his voice, only a hint of curiosity. She answered as honestly as she could, in a straightforward manner that was, well, very her.

\- Well, sir, I was recruited out of medical school. My father still think it was an act of rebellion, but I saw the KBI as a place where I could distinguish myself.” And that was the absolute truth, she thought with a smile forming on her lips. Had she listened to her father, well… her life would have been _very_ different. Despite the reluctance that Selwyn initially showed over her dedicating her life to a field where few women worked, she was grateful that she took this opportunity. She would never have fitted in the more traditional roles that were envisioned for her anyway. And although she didn’t see her father as often as she would have liked, Brienne knew that he was proud of her. 

If Tywin knew about the Isle of Tarth and her personal situation, he made no comment of it. Instead, he asked a rather unsettling question.

“Are you familiar with an agent named Jaime Lannister?

\- Yes, I am.” If she was taken aback by the question, she did not let it show and answered without a beat - however, she could see the expression of surprise plainly written over Tywin’s features for a brief second. What did his son have to do with her?

\- How so?”, continued Tywin, as his face settled again in a neutral expression. Now, that was a bit of a tricky question, but again, she went for the truth: she was only talking about Agent Jaime Lannister and not about Jaime Lannister, KBI agent, son of Tywin Lannister, one of the KBI’s most influential head of section.

“By reputation. He’s… he’s a Citadel-educated psychologist who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped to catch the Smiling Knight a few years ago. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crime section.” She paused for a second, unsure if she should continue. She could very well stop here, and that would be it. Yet, by looking at Tywin, and by glancing briefly at the two other men, she knew something else was expected of her. Taking her most neutral tone, she spoke again. “He had a nickname at the Academy.” Sigh. “Kingslayer.”

A silence greeted her statement, and the men exchanged a glance.

“Well. I’ll also tell you that Agent Lannister has developed a rather… consuming devotion to an unassigned project outside the Bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called King’s Files?”

Tywin’s voice was cold, but it seemed to Brienne that she could hear a hint of contempt in his tone. For some reason, that made her feel uneasy.

“The K-Files? Yes, sir. I believe they have to do with… unexplained phenomena.

\- More or less. The reason you're here, Agent Tarth, is we want you to assist Lannister on these K-Files. You'll write field reports on your activities and your observations on the validity of the work.” Tywin was sharp and definitive, and Brienne couldn’t help but feeling confused. That was definitely not the outcome she had expected. Glancing hesitantly at the men surrounding her, she asked for clarification:

“Am I to understand that you want me to _debunk_ the K-Files project, sir?”

Tywin’s icy gaze met her, and a small grim smile crept on the corners of his mouth - this time, she shivered. She only had met him once or twice before, always very briefly, but this time she had to admit that the rumours were true: Tywin Lannister was a man made of iron and ice, despite his House being made of velvet and gold. 

“Agent Tarth, we trust you'll make the proper _scientific analysis_. You'll want to contact Agent Lannister shortly. We look forward to your reports.”

And with that, he dismissed her and turned back his attention to his paperwork. The other two men didn’t move, either.

She politely thanked them and felt a wave of relief once she exited the room.

Well, that was certainly going to be… interesting.

* * *

The elevator opened on the lower levels, and all she could think was: one, that some engineer had to be extremely clever to figure out how to put elevators everywhere in the Red Keep without breaking or disfiguring the old structure, and two, that she was very curious about meeting Jaime Lannister for real - and not only for the good reasons. He always was a bit of a legend at the Academy and not only because of his skills. Two things gave him an almost mythical aura: the fact that he was rumoured to be extremely handsome, and the fact that he basically murdered the previous ruler in cold blood and had been pardoned for it. This, she kept from Tywin - the nickname she mentioned was enough. This led her to remember how scornfully the oldest Lannister had spoken of his son, and Brienne couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between the two of them. Surely, he couldn’t loathe his son for his regicide? After all, Tywin _did_ have a hand in is royal pardon, that she knew for sure. Usually, Brienne didn’t spend much time listening to gossip - and the Gods knew how much gossip surrounded the Lannister family. But there were facts: the father was an important personality in the KBI, and although he occupied a seemingly modest position, his tentacles spread everywhere. It was said that he had more direct contacts with the King, Robert Baratheon, than the actual Master of Whispers and head of KBI Lord Varys, or than of the Royal Intelligence Agency’s chief. Brienne also knew that these… connexionswere made possible because his daughter Cersei was the Queen, married to the King after his victory in the Rebellion - a nice word to hide the ugly truth. The Rebellion had been nothing more than a coup. Of course, that’s where Agent Jaime Lannister got his nickname from: the coup wouldn’t have worked hadn’t he shot the previous king Aerys Targaryen in the back. And for reasons that defied the law but that were fit for politics, he was pardoned by King Robert and permitted to go on with his life and continue his career at the KBI. For the Lannisters, the aftermath of the Rebellion had been rather fruitful: one daughter on the throne, one son in the Bureau and the youngest one, Tyrion, had become a well-known politician, meddling with the Government’s affairs - although he was reviled by the people too. Golden Lions with a never-ending hunting ground, on top of the world. Yet, no matter the amount of power and gold, riches and influence they had, the family could not escape the popular distrust and dislike. Notwithstanding the Royal pardon, Jaime Lannister’s sentence had been carried out by the people. Across the Seven Kingdoms, and even beyond the Narrow Sea, he was known as the Kingslayer, the man without honour. 

And there she was, Brienne, just Brienne, in some very ordinary and dimly lit corridors in the lower levels of the Red Keep, about to meet the man whose legend preceded him. She found his very ordinary office at last, and knocked. No answer. She knocked again, and this time heard a muffled voice inside: “Sorry, nobody down here but the KBI's Most Unwanted”. She entered anyway.

Lannister’s back was facing the door, but even in this position she knew that the rumours were true. From behind, the agent looked like a work of art. Golden hair, broad and muscled back, toned arms, golden skin. Suddenly feeling a familiar blush creeping across her cheeks, and willing to distract her thoughts, she looked around.

The entire room, which was ridiculously small, had its walls all covered with posters and newspaper articles, as well as blurry black and white pictures of landscapes she couldn’t identify. One poster in particular caught her eye: an A3 piece of paper with the words “I want to believe” written across it in capital letters, and underneath… a silhouette of a man, or rather, a creature made of ice and darkness, with glowing blue eyes and horns on its head. _The Night King._

At this very moment Lannister turned around and Brienne knew that her previous observation had been wrong: the man didn’t look like a work of art, he _was_ one. With a pair of very intense, shining green eyes and a smug grin on his face, he did deserve his nickname of the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms.

To shield herself against any unwanted thoughts, she took a step forward and held her hand.

“Agent Lannister, I’m Brienne Tarth. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

For a while Jaime didn’t say anything but his face spoke for him - she suspected he did that on purpose, not bothering to remain inexpressive. She could see plain as day the contempt, the mockery and the disgust in his eyes, on his lips, and as his eyes took her from head to toe, he only said six words:

“Dear Gods… Are you a woman?” Her eyes widened under the shock - the look on his face had been enough, she hadn’t expected him to insult her out loud, but he shook her hand nonetheless with the same expression.

“Isn’t it nice to be suddenly so _highly regarded_ … _”_ His words dripped of cynicism. Brienne felt the urge to turn around and run away, but instead she stood her ground and straightened her back. She was taller than him. _Good._ “Who did you tick off to get stuck with this, Tarth?”

\- I didn’t _tick anyone off_ ,” she replied dryly, withdrawing her hand as if he had burned her, although he didn’t seem to notice her rigid behaviour… or his insult. Brienne tried to compose an expression of perfect nonchalance, because she would not yield to an arrogant, entitled prick, but deep down, the damage was done. It wasn’t only his words, but his entire expression… anyway it was too late now: she had implicitly accepted Tywin’s offer and she would not come back crying because his son was a cruel and arrogant arsehole. Although, now that she knew this, maybe it was the reason why Tywin didn’t seem very fond of his eldest child.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, _Kingslayer”,_ she replied finally. Brienne had intended to be as cruel as him, but he shrugged the insult with a dashing smile and a fake expression of hurt.

\- Oooh, you wound me, _wench_.” That was worse. The insult had come to him naturally: she loathed him even more for this. “But really, you’ve been ‘assigned to work with me’? Because I was impression that you were sent to spy on me”.

Brienne tensed.

\- If you have any doubt about my qualifications or credentials…

\- You're a medical doctor." He interrupted her, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore: instead he was going through a pile of documents on his desk, of which he extracted her thesis. She couldn’t hide her surprise. "You teach at the Academy. You did your undergraduate degree in physics: 'The myth of the Long Night and its consequences on our understanding of modern physics: A New Interpretation.' Brienne Tarth, senior thesis. That's a credential, rewriting our history." She didn’t ever offer him the slightest of smiles but couldn’t stop herself from asking: 

\- Did you bother to read it?

\- I did. I found it interesting… but in most of my work, the laws of physics rarely seem to apply." Brienne could feel some irony in his words but she didn’t know if it applied to the ‘your work is interesting’ bit, or to the ‘who cares about physics’ bit. In any case, none of these options made him any more likable. "But maybe I can get your medical opinion on this though, wench. North female, twenty-one years old, no explainable cause of death. Found near Last Hearth, somewhere the Wolfswood. Autopsy shows nothing. There is, however, this mark on her lower back. _Dr Tarth_ , can you identify this mark?”, he added, as he turned off the light of the room and turned on a video projector that displayed the image of a young girl on the white wall.

She didn’t like him.

She didn’t like the way he put emphasis on her title, she didn’t like the mischief in his eyes as he called her ‘wench’, she didn’t like anything in his behaviour and his stupid voice with just a touch of challenge in it. The very first thing he had said to her was an insult about her looks, it was rude, unprofessional, childish, cruel. He could try to make up for it all he wanted but Brienne already hated the man.

But even so many years after, looking back, she would never know what drove her to stay. She should have walked away at that moment, or shouted at him, or hit him. But she didn’t: she felt mesmerized by the picture in front of her eyes. That’s why she found herself not only staying here in this ridiculously small room with a horrible man without honour, but also giving him her best hypotheses about the case.

_Ugh_.

“It looks like… a burn. Or a scar? A superficial frostbite? Maybe electrocution of some kind: lighting sometimes does leave strange patterns on human bodies.

\- But look at this: this substance was found in in the surrounding tissue.

\- Oh… what is it? I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it organic?

\- I've never seen it before either. But it was found again in Winterfell. And again in Dreadfort – each time, the victims had a very different profile.

\- So no pattern. Do you have a theory?

\- Oh, I have plenty of theories, wench.

She gave him a deadly stare. For a few seconds, absorbed by her work she had almost forgotten how insufferable her partner was.

\- My name is _Tarth_.

\- Ah, we’re not on a first-name basis then? How tragic. Anyway, Tarth, maybe what you could explain to me is why it's Bureau policy to label these cases as unexplained phenomena and ignore them.

When she only offered an unimpressed look, he cracked a smile, mischief making his green eyes shine a little brighter in the darkened room. He came closer to her ear, so close she suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Do you believe in the existence of the Others, Agent Tarth?”

At that, she couldn’t help but laugh.

\- Of course not. The Others are a myth destined to scare the children who don’t want to go to sleep, nothing more. And even if it weren’t, well, the beings as they are described in the stories could not exist without literally breaking the laws of physics that rule our world: for example…

\- Yes, yes. Conventional wisdom. Sure. But this woman is the fourth person found in the North, to die under mysterious circumstances, with the same pattern on their back at the exact same spot.

He showed again the picture with the mark, and Brienne made a mental note of researching that. It was some kind of spiral, and it was very detailed. From a dot in the centre spread some kind of tentacles going in a circular form, clockwise. Definitely not your average wound.

"Now, when convention and science offer us no answers might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?” Jaime’s tone was maybe a little too harsh, like he was genuinely trying to convince her that a supernatural, mythical being was involved in the tragedy and was upset by her lack of reaction. Brienne sighed, while Lannister paced around the room.

"The girl obviously died of something. If it was natural causes, maybe something was missed in the postmortem. If she was murdered, it's plausible there was a sloppy investigation. What _I_ find fantastic is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there. You just have to know where to look.” _Obviously._ She had the feeling that Tywin Lannister’s assignment was going to drive her mad. She had known Jaime’s reputation as a man without honour, the Kingslayer, a very good shot, a renowned KBI agent, looking half a God. But what she had no idea about, what she truly didn’t know, was that he was actually a lunatic convinced that some crime was unexplainable by science, but was instead the evil deed of imaginary beings.

\- That's why they put the 'I' in KBI. Anyway, I’ll see you there soon. We leave for the very plausible realm of The North at 8am, sharp. See you tomorrow morning, _wench_. Bright and early!”

He gave her one of his cocky grins, and then, before she had time to react, left the room: he shut the door without turning the light on again, leaving Brienne in a state of confusion, alone in the dark. Only a tiny ray of sun came through the small windows to reveal to her now inexistent audience the blush on her cheeks. She was annoyed, outraged, offended, curious, incredulous, insulted... and just, really, _really_ confused.

  
She was adamant that she didn't like him. Jaime 'Kingslayer' Lannister was both living up to his own legend, and a joke. He was everything she hated, only getting favours because of his good looks and his last name. He obviously never had to work for anything, and even though he was one of the most despised man in the country he still had the audacity to make the KBI and his father look like fools because of his work on... unexplained phenomena. Teasing her with her thesis and her assumption on a murder case... mocking her looks.  
Brienne was not easily touched by people's taunting. She was, sadly, very much used to it. At 25, the agent had struggled to accept that she was, and would always be, ugly. In school, at university, it had always been the same story, the same disbelieving looks, the same insults. She had been through everything and there was no feeling of hurt that she didn't know how to conceal under an expressionless face, a blank stare and an unimpressed look. Things had changed a little at the Academy and since she had started to work: people were seemingly more impressed by the quality of her work than by her awkward physique. She was good in her field. She had friends. She had started to make peace with all of that, even if it was far from easy. And that selfish bastard just shattered all her newly gained confidence. Brienne sighed, and slowly made her way back to the exit. She had never felt more depressed thinking about what the next day would bring. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Next chapter: Brienne and Jaime go to the North, the investigation starts and Jaime can't stop talking. 
> 
> _Acknowledgments :_  
>  What inspired me to write this AU, apart from my recent binge-watching of TXF and absolute love for Jaime and Brienne, was the excellent work done by SeeThemFlying on her fic "A Big Cop in a Small Town" which is a brilliant GoT x Hot Fuzz AU - honestly it's pure genius and it really encouraged me to try my own AU. Go check that masterpiece!  
> Also much love to the Braime fandom out there on Tumblr, for the quality content, support, endless inspiration for fics, very positive mindset... it's very powerful and I love you all.  
> Finally I'd like to thank the heatwave that's all over Europe right now for allowing me to stay inside and be a nerd, peacefully.


End file.
